


My skin hurts without your touch

by bonotje



Series: Sink your teeth right through my bones [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Coming Untouched, Hand Jobs, M/M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 18:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20012572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonotje/pseuds/bonotje
Summary: He knows this feeling, he’s become all to familiar with it during his racing career. It was part of motorsports, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Another DNF behind his name, when he’d had a pretty decent weekend so far, qualifying better than he’d expected even. He wants to forget all about today. Wants to feel the remnants of the pain inflicted tonight on his flight home tomorrow, rather than the disappointment of the race.





	My skin hurts without your touch

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is set right after the Canadian gp (yes it took me nearly 2 months to write this, shush), which is the race where Lando's rear suspension gave out on him. It's mentioned in the fic as well, but that's kinda all the set up you need to know. 
> 
> This is part of the Sink your teeth right into my bones verse (aka the painplay verse), so beware of the tags. This can be read seperately I guess, but yeah just know they have an established painplay kink in this verse. 
> 
> Anyways hope you guys enjoy this :D

They’d been lazily flipping through the channels of the hotel TV, before they had settled on some random comedy act on Comedy Central that they’re watching now, both of them in their comfies. His head is resting on Max’s stomach, jostling about every time Max laughs at the TV. He’s not really been paying attention to it though, his brain pulling up the scene of his abandoned car at the pit exit yet again. He’s been mulling it over ever since he had found himself stranded there, his rear suspension giving out under him out of nowhere. The team still hadn’t been able to give him an explanation of what had happened, all they had said was that it hadn’t been his fault. 

“Gotta piss,” Max says all of a sudden as he untangles Lando’s arms from around his waist and gets up from the bed. 

“Great, thanks for letting me know, I was really wondering if you were gonna piss or take a shit,” Lando chuckles as he pulls himself back upright again, arms stretching out over his head as he yawns. __

He’s a little sleepy, the post-race adrenaline seeping from his body slowly even with his race ending so quickly today. He’d been restless though, every time he’d start to give in to the lull of sleep his body would jerk him back awake, making Max chuckle in the process as his limbs flailed about. His brain wouldn’t stop bringing up the sensation of the rear giving out on him, his adrenaline spiking suddenly as he tried his best to nurse his car to a safe spot. 

His body has been itching with something else though, the need to ache. His body craving the impact of the crash that hadn’t happened. It’s craving the touch of callused hands pushing and pulling at his limbs until they set his body alight, the sting of teeth digging into his skin, leaving bruises. 

He hears the toilet flush and watches as Max shuffles back out of the bathroom, his hand scratching at his stomach showing off the v-line there. He gnaws at his lip, debating whether to bring this up, this urge inside of him. Trying to see if Max could be up for it tonight. He knows this doesn’t just take a lot out of himself, it does for Max as well, managing to keep the right kind of balance between not enough and taking things too far. 

He’s taking so long mulling it over that Max has now let himself fall into the armchair next to the TV, his fingers tapping away on his phone screen. There’s sound coming from the device as Max switches to Instagram, swiping through his friends’ stories. 

“I want you to hurt me,” he finally speaks up, the sound on Max’s phone still playing as the other man looks up at him with wide eyes. 

“What?”

“Please.” 

“We agreed never to do this as punishment, as a way to punish yourself Lando.” And of course Max’s first thought is that this is about the race, that he’s blaming himself for it somehow, his mind twisting and turning what had happened until he somehow found himself to be the one to blame.

“I know, but I’m not punishing myself, it wasn’t my fault the car broke down. I just… I just need this right now Max.”

He’s sitting criss cross on the bed now,  _ Max’s bed _ , tugging at a loose thread on the probably way too expensive bed sheets and he really does just need this right now. He’s not feeling sorry for himself necessarily, more so frustrated with today’s events. He kind of wishes it had been his own mistake that took him out of the race instead, because then at least he’d have someone to blame. 

He knows Max had seen his car limping along to the pitlane exit, if not in his mirrors he would’ve seen it on the big TV screens lining the track. He knows his boyfriend somehow finds the time to watch those during the races. They had only just had some fun battles, Max passing him and him managing to overtake Max right back using his DRS and softer tyres. And then all of a sudden he was out, his bright orange car still at the side of the track for many laps afterwards.

He knows this feeling, he’s become all to familiar with it during his racing career. It was part of motorsports, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating. Another DNF behind his name, when he’d had a pretty decent weekend so far, qualifying better than he’d expected even. He wants to forget all about today. Wants to feel the remnants of the pain inflicted tonight on his flight home tomorrow, rather than the disappointment of the race. 

“Okay,” Max says softly, meeting Lando’s eyes as he raises from the chair he’d been sitting in. He trusts Max with this, to know when he really needs this, to not misuse this power he’s been granted. They have clear boundaries, formed unconsciously over the years and more consciously recently. It was difficult at times, to find the right balance, but they’ve made it work and right now he knows that Max will listen to what he needs, will know just how far to go. 

Max walks over to the bed confidently, the soft smile starting to quirk up in a playful smirk, and crawls onto it so he’s sitting on his knees behind Lando. And Lando feels himself lean back into him, Max’s hands heavy on his shoulders as he draws him close. 

There’s the press of lips against his neck, dry touches as they work over his skin slowly until they press right behind his ear. He knows what’ll come next, but the bite of teeth against his earlobe still makes him gasp. He sighs out as the pressure disappears, Max’s sucking around his earlobe wetly instead. “Come on,” he groans, getting impatient already. 

“Patience babe,” Max says with a chuckle, shifting around a little so he’s sitting up against the headboard, pulling Lando back against him. Lando’s body is pliant under Max’s skilful hands, his legs stretched out in front of him now as Max starts to tug at his t-shirt. He shivers a little at the sudden cold, but Max’s warm arms wrap around his waist quickly. His fingers trace over the scattering of goosebumps covering Lando’s arm, the touch featherlight and only making more goosebumps appear. 

And Max is so good at this all, pulling him into a false sense of security, tricking his body, and then all of a sudden his hand grips around his wrist tightly, pulling his arm back roughly and making him scream out in pain. His breathing comes more heavily then, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to fight back against the pain. He can already feel his cock starting to twitch even though they’ve barely even started, the fucked up part of him rearing its ugly head after lying in wait for a while. 

It’s not always like this. God it would be pretty fucked up if it were. No most of the time they were pretty fucking  _ vanilla _ , complete with staring into each other’s eyes and asking if the other one was alright every five minutes. And as much as he loved that part of them, he would never get over the way Max would transform when they were like this. Confidence radiating off of him. 

His arm twists further under Max’s grip, his forearm now twisted up against his back, straining just a little bit too much. His teeth are digging into his lip as Max keeps his hold firm with one hand and as the other hand starts to creep towards his crotch. He’s just got some joggers on, the shape of his cock clearly visible by now and he can’t help but buck up into the press of Max’s hand. The movement only makes his arm strain more, making him groan out in both pleasure and pain. 

“Come on,” he bites out again through gritted teeth, sighing out in relieve, even with the pressure on his arm still there, as Max’s fingers finally dip underneath the waistband of his bottoms. Max’s hand dips further underneath the fabric and his fingers wrap around his cock loosely, the touch just that little bit too light to really relieve the pressure. 

He feels Max’s face press into his shoulder again, the light dusting of stubble scratching at the skin as he presses soft open mouthed kisses there. The pressure of his lips is light, but they leave damp patches as they slowly move closer to his neck, his hand moving over his cock just as slowly. He feels his body relaxing underneath Max’s touch, even though his brain tells him to run, to not let himself be tricked once more. Max does this so well though, manages to trick even his clever brain, until his lips reach the skin behind his ear. One last press of those soft lips and then there the sting of Max’s thumb pressing down against the slit of his cock, digging into the sensitive skin. 

There’s a ridiculous sound falling from his lips then, his breath choking up mid-hiss. It’s too much, too much after way too little. The juxtaposition is making his body clench up, freezing up instead of fighting or flying. His muscles go tense, the grip of his fingers on Max’s thigh clenching up, nails digging into the flesh and his breath catching. His mind goes blank, a feeling he usually craves, but it’s too much, too quiet. He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, the phantom pain of Max’s thumb pressing against his cock still there even though the other man has long since stopped pressing down. 

“Fuck, babe,” Max hisses out when it doesn’t look like he’s releasing his death grip anytime soon. “Hey, come on, it’s okay, relax,” he continues on softly, his hand wrapping around where Lando’s hand is still digging into his skin, and softly coaxing his grip loose.

He closes his eyes, willing his body to relax as he takes in a deep breath and finally he feels his muscles start to loosen up again, his body sagging back into Max’s chest with another deep breath. 

“Shit, sorry.”

“Hey no, don’t. You want me to stop? You really scared me there,” Max asks worry clear in his voice

He takes another deep breath and thinks it over, he should probably stop, but there’s still an itch there. An itch he can’t help but have, even after scaring Max and to be honest himself like that, that needs to be scratched. 

“No,” he says resolutely, “Just maybe hold back on the surprises for tonight though.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” He turns his head around far enough so he can look Max in the eyes, to show him he really is sure about this. He nods once and waits for Max to nod back, his gaze never wavering. Max’s eyes flit over his face a few times, seeking out any traces of hesitation on Lando’s face and when he finds none he nods back, slowly. 

Max’s hand is firm but soft on his cheek as he closes the gap between them to press a kiss to his lips. It’s slow, mouth dragging open Lando’s own lips as he licks his tongue into his mouth languidly. Max’s tongue licks over his palate, making him moan out and press into the kiss more firmly. He feels Max’s finger tangle into his messy hair then, tugging at it lightly, letting Lando know he’s still up for it as well. It makes a smile tug at his lips, the easy communication between them that’s at the very base of this all, the thing that makes this work so effortlessly. 

He licks back into Max’s mouth, their tongues dragging against each other, making saliva cling to his lips. He can’t stop smiling though, all thoughts of the shitty race erased from his mind for the moment and Max is grinning into his mouth right back. Max’s other hand starts to creep back south again slowly, wrapping around his cock firmly. The dry movement makes his body tingle, the feeling just that little bit painful until Max twists his hand over the head and his movement becomes more smooth. 

His mouth falls open into a moan, breaking their kiss. He lets his body sag back into Max’s chest, letting the feeling of Max’s hand moving over him wash over his body. He feels the muscles in Max’s right arm flex with each pull, his other arm wrapped around Lando’s waist, holding him close. Max’s mouth finds his neck again, open mouthed kisses falling to his skin, his tongue lapping up the sweat there. 

It’s overwhelming, overwhelming to have someone be so devoted to you, to have his every thought and action be for you and only you. It’s why with just a few of Max’s precise strokes he feels like he’s close to the edge already. Another moan is bubbling up from deep in his stomach, rumbling up his throat and finally falling from his lips. His mouth drops open as he takes in gulps of air, his hips trying to buck up into Max’s hand. Max’s grip around his waist is strong though, keeping him in place. 

“Fuck baby, look at you, so desperate already. Does it feel good?” Max’s voice is low and he can feel it rumbling against his back where Max’s chest is pressed against him. He bites at his lip, trying to keep the whimper from falling from his mouth, but it escapes through the cracks anyway. His hands clenching in the sheets as another wave of pleasure washes over him. “Tell me.”

“Fuck, so good,” he says with a whine, his body trying to twist up into the touch again. Max’s movements are slick now, precum making his hand slide easily, the noise of it starting the sound obscene. 

“You wanna come? Gonna come for me, baby? 

He’s breathless and so close to coming and his body is begging him not to do this, but he can’t stop his hand when it grips around Max’s wrist and stops its movements. He squeezes his eyes shut tight for a second, trying to stave off the orgasm that was about to rip through him, barely noticing the questioning sound that Max makes behind him. 

“No,” he says instead, “Want you to fuck me. Want to feel you on the plane tomorrow.” 

“Fuck,” Max breathes out, mouth warm where it presses against his neck. “Let me get my bag.” 

He knows what Max means, there’s a fresh bottle of lube sitting there waiting after they finished the other one on Thursday, but it’s not what he wants. He doesn’t want careful fingers pressed into him, stretching him open slowly. That’s not what he meant when he said he wanted to feel Max tomorrow. He wants to  _ really _ feel him, to be squirming in his plane seat all the way back to England, no matter how plush the first class seats are. 

So he holds his grip firm on Max’s wrist, even as the other man tries to move out from behind him. “Stay,” he breathes out. 

“Lando.”

“Spit will be fine.”

“It will hurt so fucking much. At least let me make you come first, help you relax?” 

What happened earlier was clearly still playing on his mind, a hint of worry staining his words. And God does he loves this man, this beautiful man that cares so much for the people he loves. An aspect of his personality that so few people get to see, something he hides away from the media, the people that try to find cracks in his armour for them to peck at. He keeps it locked away, only opening up that part of him for a select few, and Lando still can’t quite believe he falls into that category. 

But he still can’t help but laugh at Max’s words, because of course it will hurt, that’s what he fucking wants. He twists his body around a little so he can look at Max, the grip he had on Max’s wrist slipping free, and he gives him a look that says  _ Really? How long have we been doing this now?  _

Max rolls his eyes a little. He doesn’t say  _ I just want you to be sure  _ but it’s written all over his face, the way he gnaws at his bottom lip, the slightly worried frown pulling his brows down. He knows Max worries about taking things too far, that he will push Lando too much and break what they have built so carefully, that he doesn’t want to lose this either. 

“Milk,” he says without breaking their eye contact, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from pulling up in a teasing grin. It makes Max roll his eyes again, a soft huff of air falling from his lips, still annoyed that they’ve somehow ended up with  _ milk _ as their safeword.

“I still hate that one!”

“Why?”

“Makes me think bad things everytime you use it on your Instagram posts.”

“Yeah? What kind of bad things?” He says with a teasing smirk, gasping out a burst of air as Max’s finger dig into his hips suddenly. His hands slip further down then, until he’s grabbing a cheek with each hand, his arms straining as he pulls Lando up. He has only just enough time to catch himself as Max pushes him forward until he’s on his hands and knees. 

“Like this,” Max says before biting at his arse, his breath hot against his skin as he inches closer to the crack between his cheeks. He can’t help but moan out as Max’s fingers dig into the flesh, pulling the cheeks apart until he feels hot air against his hole. 

He’s expecting the drag of a tongue over his hole next, but instead he’s left aching, his hole clenching tightly as Max’s hands leave his arse and instead fall to the waistband of the joggers that are still clinging onto his thighs. The fabric is finally pulled free from his legs along with Max’s own pants. Max’s hand presses against his lower back to get him on his belly, his hands moving onto his thighs next, pushing and pulling at his legs until he has Lando right how he wants him. 

He yelps out as suddenly there’s the sharp sting of Max’s hand on his left arsecheek, his fingers running over the imprint it leaves behind, admiring his handiwork. It’s the furthest he’ll go with this, Lando knows, slaps and hits not usually their thing. And sure enough Max’s hand doesn’t pull back for another smack, instead he clenches the fingers into the flesh of each cheek, pulling them apart once more. His hole flutters against the air, anticipation running through his veins as he waits for Max’s next move. 

Lips find his lower back, pressing against the dip there, licking over each mole they come across until they’re finally at his crack. Teeth nip at his cheeks again before finally, finally those plump lips press against his hole, tongue slipping out slowly. The wet pressure of Max’s tongue feels amazing, sending a shiver up his body. He’s good at this to, his mouth warm and wet as it slides over Lando, making him press his body back against the flat of his tongue when it drags over him. Max draws lazy circles with his tongue, making saliva start to drip down his teint and onto his heavy balls, before he points it, making his tongue go as stiff as he can as he pushes it against the ring of muscles. He sighs out at the feeling, his body going rigid for a second before recognising the intrusion for what it is and relaxing against the strong muscle of Max’s tongue. 

There’s a few more drags and pushes of his tongue, the movements slowly making his muscles relax and opening up more and more and then all of a sudden it’s gone, the heat of Max’s mouth leaving him, his hole fluttering against the empty air. And he can’t help but whine, his body wriggling up into where Max’s hands are still holding onto him firmly. He expects a ‘ _ Stay still’  _ or another  _ ‘Look at you’  _ to come from Max, but he stays quiet, almost eerily so, the only sound he can hear from him the even breaths he takes in through his nose. 

He waits and waits, waits for him to do something until finally he can’t take it anymore and looks back over his shoulder at Max, and fuck he looks like the epitome of a pornstar. There’s a line of spit dangling from his lips, falling down slowly, his eyes focussed on where he’s spreading Lando’s cheeks open, making sure his aim is correct. Lando continues watching him as the spit drops lower and lower until finally the string breaks. His eyes fall shut as he feels it fall onto his skin, his hole clenching against it before Max gathers it up with his thumb and presses it into him slowly. 

Max’s thumb slips in with little resistance, his mouth having worked him open enough for it to press passed the ring of muscle easily. Max presses the digit down against the walls inside of him, his teeth nipping at his skin with a bite, before he sits back up again and pulls his thumb away from him. He leans forward, his chest pressing against Lando’s back as he balances himself on one hand and presses the pointer and middle finger of his other hand against Lando’s lips. He lets them fall open easily, his tongue licking over each thick finger and wetting them. 

He can feel Max’s arousal press against his arse with how he’s leaning over him now, his mouth working over the skin of Lando’s neck, the sound of a groan vibrating against his skin as Max presses himself against him. He presses back into the other man, urging him on, wanting to feel his cock press into him already but knows he needs to wait for fingers first. And Max doesn’t need any more encouragement, the muscles in his arms bulging up for a moment as he pushes himself away from Lando. 

Wet fingers press against him then, his body giving way to the pressure easily. Max’s fingers scissor open inside of him, slowly opening him up more and more as his fingers run dry again. Fingers ease out to just the tip and he hears the wet sound of spit being pushed from Max’s lips, before they press back in again, a third finger joining them. It’s a stinging ache, the wide stretch making him grit his teeth, his body pushing back against the intrusion to ease the slide of fingers. Max stretches him open carefully, trying to ease the tip of a fourth finger in when Lando’s body relaxes into his touch. And he just wants his cock, to feel the wide stretch of it inside of him, that all consuming feeling of being connected like that. 

“Come on,” he grits out, pressing back into Max’s touch, urging him on, letting him know he’s ready. 

There’s one more press of fingers into him and then Max slowly eases them out, shushing Lando’s whimpers as he clenches up against the empty feeling. He twists his head back to look up at Max, the other man’s hand raised to his lips, more spit getting pushed onto it with a wet sound before Max twists his hand around his straining cock.

“You ready?” Max asks, eyes focussed on Lando’s as he shuffles forward a little more, a fist around his cock for him to guide it into Lando as soon as he has his confirmation. So he nods slowly, eyes determined as he does so, keeping them on Max as he pushes his hips forward and presses his cock against him. He pushes in slowly, so slow, the pressure against his hole building little by little, and Lando can’t help but let his head fall back down again, hung low between his shoulders as he tries his best to keep himself upright, the sensation overwhelming. 

It hurts, it fucking hurts, even with Max’s fingers having worked him open, but finally the head of Max’s cock squeezes passed the ring of muscles, the widest part of him snug inside now. He feels so much bigger than normal like this, Max’s cock dragging against his insides as he continues to press forward, the spit barely easing the slide. Max inches in deeper slowly, shushing each of his whimpers with soft kisses against his skin and words of encouragement until finally he’s pressed into him right to the hilt. His mouth falls open in a choked up gasp and it’s only then that he realises how hard he’d been biting at his lip, the tang of iron on his taste buds as his tongue connects with his ruined lips. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Max groans out, his voice a low rumble. 

He can’t stop the keen that forms on his lips, the sound bursting out as he takes in the sensation of Max stretching him open. “Fuck Max, fuck it hurts,” he says at the same time he closes his hand over Max’s hip to keep him close, telling Max that he can handle it. Max’s sweaty forehead falls against the back of his neck, a soft hum resonating against his skin as he keeps close and lets Lando get used to the feeling.

He waits for his body to relax a little more, to get used to the feeling of Max stretching him open and then relaxes his grip on Max’s hip, his hand falling back to the bed instead and fingers tangling around Max’s beside him. He squeezes once and feels Max press a kiss against his neck, his hips inching back ever so slightly. It still hurts and the feeling of Max stretching him open with just the tip of his cock, feeling both empty and full, draws a confused little sound from him, his brain not knowing yet whether it likes this or not. But then Max pushes back in, parting his walls once more, and pleasure is starting to seep in along with the pain, the urge to press back into the intrusion rather than pull back starting to win out. 

Max’s rhythm stays slow, his mouth pressed below his ear, sucking and biting on the tender skin there in between words of praise. 

“You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good baby. Fuck you’re tight, feels like you’ve never been fucked before, like you’re all for me, just me,” Max groans, words more of a ramble now as his hips pick up a little more speed. “Does it feel good, hmm?”

“So. Good,” he chokes out, his head pressing into the pillow beneath him as his arms start to give out, but Max’s arm wrapping around his chest is strong, keeping him from completely falling into the soft sheets. The fabric of the pillow feels foreign against his tongue as he clenches his teeth into it, his whimpers turning into moans as they rumble up his throat. 

“Let me hear you baby, lemme know how good I’m making you feel huh.”

He spits the fabric back out of his mouth, his head pressing against the wet spot now as he lets out a loud keen, following Max’s orders. By now the slide of Max inside of him is more pleasure than pain, Max’s precum making the slide a little smoother. He can feel Max trying to find his prostate, the angle of his trust changing ever so slightly, until he lets out a frustrated groan and draws his body away from Lando. With Max’s arm slipping away from his chest his upper body collapses against the bed, his fingers twisting into the sheets as the change in position makes him feel even more. Max’s hands wrap around his hips tightly, the nails of his fingers digging into the skin as he thrusts forward again, trying to find the right angle once more.

It takes just two more thrusts and then finally he pushes in just right, the tip of his head hitting that magical spot inside of him, making him gasp in a breath of air before a loud moan falls from his lips. It feels so good, the last remnants of pain seeping away now as Max keeps pressing in at the right angle. “Yes, just like that Max, just like that. Fuck!”

He twists his head to the side, his cheek connecting with the pillow now instead, breathing in air that isn’t dry and cloyed with the scent of fabric softener. He can see Max from the corner of his eye like this, his head gone red from exertion, mouth hanging open a little. Their eyes meet again, a smile that’s too tender for what they’re doing right now spreading on Max’s face, before something wicked comes over his face instead. With one last squeeze of his fingers around his hips Max shifts his position again, one of his hands leaving his hip to reach for Lando’s face instead. He runs his thumb over Lando’s still tender lip softly, before he brushes away some sweaty hair from his forehead, the touches such a juxtaposition to what he knows is coming. He can already feel Max’s heavy palm resting against his face, the weight of his body pressing him down against the pillow. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, Max’s broad hand spanning the whole side of his face, the tips of his fingers scratching against his hairline as he presses his face down into the pillow roughly. He closes his eyes and really takes in the feeling. Of the soft pillowcase beneath his cheek, the slightly callused tips of Max’s fingers, the way his thumb curls over his jaw, the pressure of it firm as Max continues to fuck him. And fuck he’s already getting so close, his cock bouncing up against his stomach with each of Max’s thrusts, he could probably come untouched, the slap of his cock against his stomach enough to tip him over the edge. 

“Close,” he moans, his voice muffled as he struggles to move his jaw underneath the pressure of Max’s hand, his lips brushing against Max’s palm as he speaks. The warning barely tumbles from his lips in time, the rough jerk of Max’s hips at his words tipping him over the edge. His orgasms rips through him almost painfully, like coming untouched always does, cum spurting out over his stomach and dripping down onto the sheets, making his body feel like tiny fires are lit up underneath his skin. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he hears Max’s groan filter through the ringing in his ears, the clenching of his body sucking Max into him even tighter. The slide of Max’s cock inside of him is starting to hurt though, his body going over-sensitive quickly, a soft whimper falling from his lips. 

Another pained sound from him has Max halt, his hand drawing away from his face and brushing down his back softly as he slips out of him. He knows Max must’ve been so close, but even in the throes of pleasure he knows when to stop, that the pained sound Lando let out wasn’t like the ones in the midst of their plays. And he can’t stop the stinging of tears at the corners of his eyes, the love he feels for this man is overwhelming, the trust between them so effortless. 

Max’s hand is a blur as it moves over his cock, pulling him towards his own release, a low grunt the only signal that he’s coming, his hips jerking reflexively before he feels the splash of warm spunk against his arse and across his lower back. Max’s breathing is heavy, his forehead pressing into the back of Lando’s neck for a second, before he whispers  _ stay _ into his skin, drawing away from him and stumbling off the bed, shushing the needy sound Lando can’t keep in. 

He lets his body sag into the bed, still splayed awkwardly with his arse up in the air, but he can’t get himself to move, exhaustion settling in as he lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, letting the quiet wash over him. Max isn’t gone for long, the soft shuffle of his feet making Lando blink his eyes back open. There’s a wet cloth in his hands as he kneels back onto the bed, the brush of the warm fabric soft against his skin as Max wipes away their mess. His hands are so gentle as he slowly pulls his legs down to the bed, before he carefully turns him over onto his back away from the soiled spot of the sheets and wipes away the mess on his stomach. And he can’t stop the tears from falling this time, everything so overwhelming, the gentle caress from Max’s fingers, the absolute exhaustion, the ache in his arse and the quiet in his head. 

“Hey, don’t cry. Did I hurt you?” Max asks worriedly. 

He quickly shakes his head, chokes out  _ no _ , and watches the frown between Max’s brows smooth over again. Max lets himself fall down onto the bed next to him, throwing the cloth over his shoulder, before pulling Lando close. He brushes away the tears from his eyes, a soft smile on his face as does so. “You really okay?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> As always kudos and comments make my little writers heart soar. And you can now find me on tumblr at [sleepyverstappens!](http://www.sleepyverstappens.tumblr.com) Prompts are always welcome as well :D


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